Farewell, Esquire?

Esquire— in my teenage years, in my early-20s, and for decades preceding my existence and my father's existence and even my grandfather's existence— was a bible for young men who wanted to impress, charm, improve (however marginally), and, most importantly, engage with society bearing an identity other than the expected TV show-stooge or meatheaded fratboy. In short, it was a magazine for young men who wanted to emerge, not slouch. And how could a magazine like that ever die?

Read More